When Leaves Fall
by CerealQueen
Summary: This takes place during the events of EarthBound. From the prospective of Threed doctor, Logan Collard, it follows his story as the world slowly falls apart. I have been working on this for awhile, but never managed to finish it. Read and review. I will be sure to update as frequently as I can.
1. Chapter 1

My eyes wandered down the empty street, watching as passing winds carried the crisp fallen leaves of an early autumn. They crackled and whipped the street as they were carried far into the distance. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet nicotine as I smoked. Leaning against the weather damaged building, I watched as ashes fell to the ground and were swept into the breeze. I silently took in the fresh air and breathed in slowly with my eyes gently closed. It was my least favorite time of the year, but flu season was among us.

"Hey, Logan!" I tilted my head to the left and saw him running hastily down the sidewalk toward me. I could not help but grin as he lost his balance and nearly fell on to his face. Finally catching up to me, he smiled in embarrassment.

"Have a nice trip?" I asked, putting the cigarette to my lips. "See you next fall." His usual pale face turned into a brilliant shade of scarlet as he nervously chewed his lip.

"It is fall," he said smoothly, in attempt to redeem himself.

"Next fall," I corrected, inhaling with a smile. "It's different." He grinned, his bright white teeth flashing.

"Yeah, whatever, man."

"So, how have you been, Trevor?"

"I'm doing alright. Just getting by, I guess." Even though he smiled, I caught a small glimpse of bitterness in his eyes. I could not help but notice he was cloaked in white powder from head to toe; it nearly matched his golden locks.

"You sure it isn't winter?" I teased pointing to his shirt.

"Oh, that," he laughed, attempting to wipe it off his black shirt. "I just had a bit of an accident earlier."

"A bit, huh?"

"Okay, maybe a big mishap. The flour was on the top shelf and…" his voice trailed off, his thoughts elsewhere. However, only seconds later he came to his senses and smiled bashfully. "I guess it's pretty self-explanatory." He could not hide the pained expression from me, as hard as he tried. I knew the reason behind the mask he fabricated to everyone else.

We lived in a relatively small town where strangers were rather uncommon. This town, Threed, was home to families that had been here for generations. Trevor worked at the bakery with the owner, his father. Business was well, but in truth, his father was an unpleasant man.

"If you didn't work at a bakery, I'd call you butter-fingers," I snickered, trying to settle the tension. "But in this case, it's probably true."

"Yeah," he smiled, but I doubt he heard me. Grunting, I dropped the cigarette and we watched as the smoke simmered into nothing. "So, how's work going?" he asked, his eyes glued to the ground.

"It's busier than I would like," I admitted, taking in a deep breath. "With fall approaching early this year, we're in for a long flu season."

"It's busy, then?"

"Brutal." The thought of the towering stack of paperwork caused me to shudder.

"The town's lucky to have a doctor like you," he said softly, his face thoughtful as he stared off into space. His lips were formed into a warm smile. "We don't need a big fancy hospital with you here. Everyone owes you a great deal, Logan."

I nodded, but did not respond. From my peripherals, I saw a young boy lost in thought. With a soft sigh, my eyelids became heavier in the drowsy fall air. They closed shut as a passing breeze carried the warm aroma of maple from nearby trees. Trevor either did not notice or did not care as I dozed against the clinic's wall.

"Doctor Collard!" My eyes snapped open, my body alert and ready. I cocked my head and saw my head nurse, May Miles, at the front entrance. She scowled as she approached, her long blonde hair nestled on her right shoulder. "You were supposed to be back ten minutes ago. You have an appointment with Mr. Green in five minutes."

"Alright, I'm sorry," I apologized, allowing May to let out her frustration. She was not looking forward to this busy season any more than I was. Besides, she was not really angry; she had a heart of gold. With a smile, she nodded approvingly.

"Why hello there, Trevor!" she greeted, her attention turned toward the young blushing stag.

"Hey, May," he replied, his confidence exceeding his bashfulness. His sparking blue eyes smiled in unison with his mouth. "How have you been?"

"I've been alright. A little busy here and there," she responded. "The only problem is this big oaf," she laughed, playfully punching me in the arm. I grinned, giving a thoughtful shrug. "Speaking of which, you need to get back to work, Logan."

"Fine, fine."

"I'll see you around, Trevor!" she said, waving farewell. She shot me a look before she went back inside.

"I guess I have to go," I muttered, glancing over at my friend. His face was still a bit blush.

"Yeah, I should be, too," he nearly whispered. I gave him a quick glance before heading back to work myself. He must have snapped to, because I heard him call out my name.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning my head to meet his eye.

"Have a good day, 'kay?"

I smiled and flashed him a wink. "You bet." He laughed, waved, and jogged back to the bakery, which was only a few buildings from the clinic. Cramming my hands into my white coat's pockets, I hurried to my office to attend to my patient.

Any happiness I had that day vanished when I saw the stacks of papers that devoured my desk. I cursed under my breath and tried to clear out a spot to work. Somewhere in my mind, I knew I had to clean my workspace, but I was a professional procrastinator. Out of frustration, all the papers ended up turning into one gigantic stack, not organized in the slightest. There was an abrupt _thud _as my head planted on the desk, a low grumble escaping my throat.

"Logan?" My eyes shifted to the door, May standing in the doorway with a white mug with steam billowing from its rim.

"Who's the meeting with? Mr. Yellow?"

"Green," she corrected, grinning. "You're not acting very professional today, are you?"

"I'm sorry," I apologized, grinning warmly. "I really should be acting my age, shouldn't I?"

"Well, I honestly don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, Logan," she pondered, tapping her nails on the ceramic cup. "Childish behavior is sometimes a nice change than the destructive nature of adults."

"Wow, that was quite sophisticated," I pointed out, leaning back in my chair. "Where did that come from?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." She shook her head and gifted me a kind smile. "Here's your coffee, Doctor." Her hands move from the handle and cupped the base, gently placing it in my hand. My fingers seized the handle and immediately, I brought cup to my face, inhaling the warm steamy fragrance.

"What's the flavor today?"

"French vanilla with cinnamon," she explained.

"And did you put in-"

"Yes," she interrupted, grinning confidently. "Two sugars, two creams. I know, Logan."

"I really should give you more credit," I muttered, rubbing the back of my head.

"Maybe you should," she smirked, flipping a strand of her blonde hair from her face. "I am also going to assume that you don't know where Mr. Green's paperwork is, do you?"

"Eh…"

May boomed in laughter, her teeth flashing. "That's what I thought!" She held a clipboard that held a small stack of papers. "I made you a copy of mine."

"You know me too well, May."

"Someone needs to keep you in line, Logan." She twirled her finger around a strand of her goldilocks hair, placing the patient's documents on top of the huge stack on my desk.

"Go look over it for a second and I'll let Mr. Green inside." With a few quick skips, she frolicked to the waiting room, disappearing within seconds.

"Fine, Mom," I smirked as soon as she was out of earshot, grabbing the chart and quickly giving it a glance. I crossed my legs, seizing the handle to the freshly brewed coffee, sipping it contently. According to his paperwork, Lawrence Green was relatively healthy, aside from a past case depression and mono. Before I could take another sip, a middle-aged man stood in the doorway, nervously shifting his eyes around the office. Tiny beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.

"Mr. Collard?"

"Oh, hello there, Mr. Green," I greeted with a smile, standing up and raising my arm for a handshake. Oddly enough, he hesitated before grasping my hand, with a weak grip. I also could not help but notice how uncomfortably sweaty his hand was. "Uh, please take a seat."

"Okay." Green inspected the worn-out chair before wearily taking a seat. His eyes wandered around the mess that I referred to as my desk.

"Sorry about this," I apologized, awkwardly laughing. I took a seat in my own chair. "I haven't had time to thoroughly clean out my office."

"It's completely fine," he assured, running his fingers through his thinning hair; he gulped loudly.

"If I'm not mistaken," I started, picking up and reviewing his chart. "You just had your regularly scheduled checkup two weeks ago and that you scheduled this one just last night."

"Yes, that's correct."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"Yeah, actually," he admitted, twiddling his thumbs together. "I, uh, haven't been feeling well lately." The man only met my eyes for a second before the floor suddenly became entertaining enough to shift his gaze. Though I was not a psychiatric doctor, I found it difficult not to observe his odd gestures.

"Can I see that paper, please?" I asked, directing my eyes to the clipboard in his hand. It was standard for someone to fill out a few papers while in the waiting room; the paper he carried listed the symptoms he had.

"Yeah." Green only looked up long enough to place the documents in my hand before reverting his gaze back to the tiled floor. As soon as the clipboard was in my possession, I silently yawned as I leaned back, looking over the information.

"How's Sarah?" I read where he listed the abnormalities: dizziness, nausea, feverish, headaches, cough, and sore throat.

"She's alright. She's actually the one who made me come here, practically pushed me through the doors."

"She may have overreacted," I smiled, eyeing my coffee enviously. "But she only does it because she loves you." I made a mental note of his perspiration.

"Yeah," he whispered, his cheeks lifting as he thoughtfully smiled. "She does…"

"It must be nice, being married and all." My nostrils flared, fearing the start of the seasonal flu.

He simply nodded.

"Alright, let's take a listen," I said, carelessly rolling my chair to the other side of the room, opening a drawer to retrieve my stethoscope. With it in my hand, I strolled back over to Mr. Green, brushing my dark hair from my eyes, facing him. Knowing routine, he unbuttoned his flannel shirt partially, revealing his bare chest. I stuck the rubber pieces in my ears; he flinched when I pressed the metal to his skin.

_Dub… Dub... _

His heart rate was slightly above normal, though it may have been due to nervousness. His pulse was strong. I slid the instrument down and allowed it to hang from my neck. My neck crooked to the sphygmomanometer on my desk and I reached over to grab it.

"Please roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm." He did as I asked and I wrapped the Velcro cuff around his forearm, squeezing the pump. "Tell me if it's too tight."

"That's good," he grunted a few seconds later. I stopped as he asked and read the valve; my tongue slid on the backs of my top teeth.

His systolic blood pressure read 157 mm HG. I watched the strap as it deflated back to normal.

"Your heart pressure is above normal," I informed the man, leaning back in my chair. "That's a sudden spike within two weeks' time. Have you been eating more carbs or sodium lately?"

"Um, I'm not sure," he pondered, thinking back. "I mean, maybe."

"Also, if you drink, try to cut back on the alcohol intake."

"Yeah, sure." He took a long breath, blinking. "So, what's wrong with me?" My eyes locked onto his and I could see the fear in his eyes.

"Lawrence," I started, giving him a soothing smile. "As far as I can tell, you just have high blood pressure, which is completely manageable. You're fine; there's nothing to worry about."

"Really?"

"Definitely," I reassured, leaning back in my chair. "Unless you have any other concerns, you are free to go."

"Wa-wait, Logan?"

"Hmm?" I peeked over at him as I rolled back over to my cup of java.

"Oh, never mind." Green's head dropped down and he quickly stood up from his seat, bolting to the door.

"Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

"Sure." He nodded and slipped through the door. "Thanks." Without even so much as blinking an eye, I grasped the mug's handle and took a long sip of my coffee, the small hint of cinnamon bringing out the full flavor of the drink.

The messy pile on my desk seemed to have grown substantially within these past few minutes. I sipped contently, gazing anxiously at the mess. Sniffing, I checked the watch on my wrist: 3:47. Green was the last scheduled patient for the day and the only assignment I really had was to file paperwork. I blinked, staring at the pile.

"Eh, it can be postponed," I muttered, giving myself the incentive not to do it.

The liquid slid down my throat and with one final gulp, I stood up, leaving the empty glass on the desk. I scratched the back of my neck and moved it to my chin, feeling the coarse facial hair. I walked to the counter by the door, putting the stethoscope back in the drawer. Without looking back, I clicked the office lights off, going home for the evening.

With the stick of tobacco perched from the corner of my lip, I smoked contently, wincing from the cold breeze every now and then. I stuck my right hand in my coat pocket, listening to the jingle of the change, bored. A car flew by on the still road, leaving behind a trail of dry leaves in its path. I scowled as my stomach growled aloud. From my peripherals, I saw a young blonde boy running down the sidewalk: Trevor. He nearly threw the white box he had tucked in his arm as he tripped over his two left feet. I briefly turned my head away from him, hiding a grin.

"Lo-Logan," he gasped, out of breath. "Hey!"

"Trevor," I acknowledged, giving him a small nod. Taking another drag, I tilted my head up and closed my eyes contently. "How is work going?"

"Same old, same old," he explained, shrugging slightly. He tugged his apron, half way sticking his hands in his faded jean's pockets. "Dad's just on edge because we got an order for a wedding cake and it's just not lining up right." He chewed gently on the inside of his cheek. "How about you?"

"It's fine," I muttered, inhaling through my nose. "I'm just preparing for the busy season."

"Huh?"

"Flu season," I explained, coughing sporadically. "It typically ranges from fall-to-winter season."

"So, why are you worrying about it now when it may not happen for a few more months now?"

"Someone came in yesterday with all usual symptoms." I opened my eyes and gazed into the cloudy sky. "It looks like the flu came early this year."

"Is it really that bad?" Trevor asked, meaningfully. "I mean, this is a small town, after all."

"I can see how you might see it that way, but it's just the opposite," I said, sighing. "Because it is such a small rural town, people are more exposed to the flu. If your neighbor gets it, odds are, it'll spread rapidly since everyone is so close together. The clinic is too small to take care of the entire town at once."

"Ah," he pondered, the wind blowing through his hair. "How bad does the flu typically get?"

"Not too bad," I answered. "We usually have it under control and it ends within a week's time. We did have one casualty last year, though."

"Really?"

"Yes, but the woman who died was in her late 80's. She had a history of liver problems and when she caught the flu, it caused extensive liver damage. She passed away a little later."

"Oh, that was Mary Bond, wasn't it?"

"Yep." I scratched my neck. "The only deaths this town seems to have is of old age and hers wasn't far from it."

"So, the flu isn't that bad, then."

"Maybe not for residents, but the clinic is going to be up to their waist with paperwork." Trevor laughed, shifting the box in his arms.

"Well, I'm sorry, Logan," he sympathized, flashing me his smile. "Will this help?" He offered the large white box.

"It depends on what's in it," I grinned, sliding my hand to my back pocket.

"Ah, shut up," he laughed as I took the box.

"Thanks, Trevor." I glanced to him and narrowed my eyes to the ground, with a sincere smile. "I really do appreciate it, as do the other staff." I grasped the box tightly when it reached my hands, my stomach silently rumbling. "What's today's selection?"

"Mostly glazed, but there's Onett Cream, lemon custard-filled, and a chocolate glazed."

"Yum." It was tempting to peek in the box and eat one of the donuts then. "By the way, as a refined pastry chef, what is your favorite kind?"

"Uh…"

"I'm sure it's something fancy, probably one of those foreign ones, right?"

"Um…actually," he started, his cheeks slightly turning a light scarlet shade.

"What? Are you embarrassed?"

"Well, honestly, I prefer the chocolate-frosted glazed ones with the colorful sprinkles."  
>"Oh my god, it would be," I grinned, slowly shaking my head.<br>"Yeah, and what's so wrong with that?" Trevor became defensive, his eyes slightly narrowing.

"Nothing, nothing at all." I tried to hide my sly grin from his view.

"No, tell me what's so funny about it."

"Who's laughing?"

"You are!" He began to pout, offended; it seemed I had pushed him far enough.

"It just doesn't surprise me, is all," I smiled, releasing a long sigh.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're just like a child."

"How am I supposed to respond to that, Logan?"

"Sorry, Trevor," I apologized, looking him in the eyes. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. You're just, you." I smiled, watching as he studied my face, debating whether he was going to take my explanation offensively or not; he decided upon the latter.

"Hey, guys!" Trevor turned his entire body in the direction of the voice, his skin almost appearing to change into a new shade of red. I cocked my head to the side, though already aware of what I would find.

"Hi, May."

"Logan," she addressed, playfully giving me a dirty look. Her expression turned warm as she glanced to my bashful friend. "Hi, Trevor. How are you doing?"

"H-hey," he stammered. "May, how are you?"

"I'm pretty good. Thanks for asking."

"Yeah." I looked back over and saw his head hanging low, embarrassed beyond words. Seeing him like that made it hard not to feel bad for the poor guy.

"What's up?" I asked, refocusing my attention back to my head nurse. "I don't have any appointments right now, yeah?"

"Well, you didn't," she admitted, brushing one of her golden locks behind her ear. "However, Mrs. Johnson arrived a few minutes ago, demanding to see you."

"And she didn't make an appointment?"

She rolled her eyes, "Does she ever, Logan?" With an exasperated sigh, I crooked my neck back and shook my head.

"Bad client?" Trevor asked curiously, emerging from the shadows.

"On the contrary," I corrected, tilting my head back down to face him. "Johnson actually is a very generous client and I guess can be considered a regular."

"Is she sick?"

"Not at all," May said with a grin. "I think she has a thing for the doctor here." I grunted in response.

"Is that right?" I could not help but grimace when I saw his lips curl.

"Yep," May laughed, clicking her tongue. "She will only see Logan, no other doctor. It's pretty sweet, actually."

"Well, whatever," I groaned, running my fingers through my black hair. "I guess I should go and see what she wants this time." With the box in my hand, I nodded to my friend. "I'll see you later, Trev." Starting to the door, I turned and raised the box to him. "And thanks, by the way."

"Later, Logan." With a flick of his wrist, he waved goodbye with a brilliant smile. May skipped beside me, reaching the door first.

"Nice to see you take responsibility for a change," she laughed, holding the door open so I could pass.

"You act as though I've never done my job before."

"Well…" her words faded, in a sarcastic manner.

"Shut up."

Just as soon as I walked into the waiting room, Mrs. Johnson was already in my face, impatient as always; I prepared myself for the worst.

"Logan, why do you always insist on making me wait," the old woman bantered with tiny arms flailing. "All of these young people just come in here and see you as they please while I stand here waiting. My patience is just running thin with their inconsideration. I could've died while you were slacking off."

"I'll see you later, doctor," May whispered to me.

"Wait, take these," I ordered, shoving the box in her hands. She nodded and darted in the opposite direction.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mrs. Johnson." I nodded to May and headed toward my office, the nagging woman following.

"You are a terrible doctor making your regular patients wait like that."

"Well, then why do you only request me as your doctor?" I questioned with half of a smirk playing on my face.

The old lady paused, thinking of a good excuse, "I suppose it's 'cause you got a cute face." She topped it off with a devilish grin and slightly narrowing her eyes.

"I'm just going to have to keep an eye on you, aren't I?" I said with a grin, opening the office door and heading in.

"And why's that?"

"Because, wherever you go, you seem to bring trouble along with you," I smirked, taking a seat at my desk.

"Oh, you know you like it," she teased, taking the appropriate seat across from me. "That's why you always flock to me."

"I think you got that backwards."

"You sure didn't hesitate to get here."

"How contradictory," I criticized, leaning back in my chair. "Didn't you just get on my case because I made you wait?"

"Pish posh." The woman shook her head and waved her wrist, completing ignoring my point.

"What brings you in today, Pamela?" I asked with a sigh, knowing it would be pointless to argue with such a stubborn person.

"I have a fever," she explained, fluffing her cottonball hair.

"Yeah? You look perfectly healthy to me."

"You're not a good enough doctor to confirm that just by looking at me," she barked, crossing her arms. "You'll just have to perform a full examination."

"Oh, joy," I groaned, smiling as I searched the bottom drawer of my desk for the necessary tool. "So, you're telling me you didn't have your own thermometer at home?"

"Of course I do!"

"So, what did your temperature read then?"

"How am I supposed to know?" she asked, rummaging around in her purse.

"What? You didn't check your temperature?"

"Course not," she replied, unwrapping a stick of lime-green gum; the scent of spearmint filled my nostrils. "I don't trust any old medical contraption."

"Then why bother having one?"

"What are you trying to imply?" She chewed the candy loudly, clicking her tongue each time her jaw snapped.

"Nothing, I guess." I found the thermometer and swapped the reusable pad. "I think you're trying to find an excuse to come and see me."

"Tch, you're the ones you don't sell your fancy shmancy tools in stores."

"I'm pretty sure it's the same thing." I rolled the chair over to her, flashing her a friendly smile. "Now, say 'ah'."

"Anything for you, doll." She did as I asked, allowing me to take her temperature. "So, how sick am I?"

I focused on the screen, watching the numbers settle and stop: 98.5 Fahrenheit, "You're perfectly healthy, Mrs. Johnson." I sighed aloud, taking the thermometer and throwing it back on my desk. "Just as I had thought."

"Well, that's surprising," she snorted, smacking her lips. "Now that the leaves are falling again, everyone seems to be starting fires. All that smoke ain't good for my ol' lungs. Oh, and haven't seen a single kid hold a door open for poor me in ages. The youth of today is a bunch of bastards, I tell ya." It was amazing how easily she seemed to wander off subject and complain about everything at once.

"What, were kids nicer back in the day of five cent slaves and legal prostitution?"

"I'm not that old, you prick," she laughed until she started hacking; I sneered in response.

"I'm not a big fan of this season, either, to be honest," I admitted, closing my eyes, ruffling my fingers in my hair.

"You're a pessimistic guy, aren't you?"

"And how is that different than your nagging, Pamela?"

"Nagging?" she cried, crackling. "Only old hags nag."

"My point, exactly."

"You're a petty piece of trash."

"Aw, I love you, too."

My head turned when I heard a knock from the open door and found May standing in the doorway, with a cup of coffee, according to routine.

"Doctor, is now an okay time?" May asked, providing a warm smile to my patient; Mrs. Johnson turned her head away in response.

"Yeah, that's fine." The nurse nodded, sweeping inside and delivering the cup into my hands. "Thanks." She gave me a small wink, shifting her gaze between the old woman and me before exiting the room. Mrs. Johnson turned around to watch her leave.

"She's quite a piece, ain't she?" The hag mocked, leaning forward, then back in her seat.

"Huh?" I blew the top of the liquid slightly, cooling it off before sipping it. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Well, she's quite a looker."

"Yeah, so?" I set the mug down, staring peculiarly at the woman.

"So, how far have you gotten?" Her face turned into a devilish smirk, biting her lip suggestively.

"I haven't," I laid down bluntly, crossing my arms. "She is my employee and a friend." I added, "Just a friend."

"Logan, are you a gay?" she questioned, revving her eyes at me suspiciously.

"No!" I answered a bit too defensively. "Why would you even ask that?"

"You sure? I heard you and Wright's boy are pretty close."

"Again, friends."

"Then why is it a handsome devil like you never has a pretty girl hanging off your arm?" she asked, crossing her legs. "Maybe you're just too afraid to admit how you feel to the girl of your dreams?" My glance moved toward the desk as I saw her leaning closer to me. I looked in the reflection in my mug.

"I don't care about that crap," I said, taking a long gulp of my coffee. "I just want to focus on my work."

"There ain't no need to get all shy with me," she snorted. "Ya know, I'd take you home, Honey."

"Oh, you're too old for me, Grandma. Plus, you're not really my type."

"So tell me, what gets your fancy then?"

"Well, I prefer a lady who was born after the dinosaurs."

"I prefer a man that still practices chivalry, but I guess I'll settle with you, ya smart ass. You're lucky yer a doctor because that money makes you look a helluva lot more handsome," she sneered.

"And that money is coming right out of your pocket," I retaliated, taking another swig of coffee. "You're in here so much that I don't think your insurance is even covering your visits anymore. I'm starting to feel guilty for taking an old granny's retirement fund."

"Well, surely you ain't talkin' 'bout me! I'm still as strong as a prized racin' horse!"

"Nope, definitely not you, Mrs. Johnson."

"Why bother calling me by my last name?" she cooed, leaning so close, I could feel her breath. "Just call me Pamela; it's much sexier."

"I feel uncomfortable with that," I stated, shaking my head. I paused for a second and smirked. "Pamcakes."

"Oh, nuh uh! That ain't gonna fly with me!"

"Pammy?"

"I know you is just messin with me now, Collard." She leaned back in her seat, slouching while she sulked. "Ain't very nice, either."

"I apologize sincerely," I promised, slightly bowing my head in truth. I set the cup down and slanted my eyes, restfully.

"Thank you." She glanced at her watch and nearly jumped out of her chair at what she saw. "Hell, I'm late!" I watched her zip her purse and gather herself before she stood.

"What are you late for? A date?"

She snorted, "You're my one and only, Doctor."

"My, that's a scary thought." She laughed as loud as her frail lungs would allow her, unzipping her purse and sticking her hand to pull something out.

"This is for you, Logan," she said with a smile, directly placing a wad of bills tenderly in my palm. "For being such a perk to my day."

I only took a glance at the money before flatly saying, "No."

"And why not? My money not good enough for you?"

"You know very well why," I answered, shoving the bills back in her hand. "This profession does not allow tips as it is and you're always trying to give me money. If I accepted every tip you tried to lay on me, you'd be broke."

"It's not like it's much," she muttered, staring me in the eye. "I just thought I'd give you some money so you'd get yourself a hair-cut or something. Yer lookin mangy there, Logan."

"What, me? It takes a lot of hours to put myself together in the morning," I said defensively, combing my fingers through my matted hair.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" she burst out loud, looking at her watch, shocked. "I'm late, very late. I need to be going. Buh bye, Logan dear." She hurried out the door before I could possibly think of another snide comment. However, I then noticed a large sum of cash that had been thrown on my desk, though it was hardly a surprise.

I grasped the mug handle firmly in my hand, leaning back and admiring the mountain of paper that had taken over my desk and moved toward invading my entire office; it was no easy task to be so organized and I could not help but to silently congratulate myself for such a feat. It was amazing how nice and relaxing one slow sip of coffee could be with its slick velvet taste and robust aroma: Columbian Roast. May knew how to make a good pot of joe.

With a deep breath, I stood from my seat, not interested in working another minute or even thinking about attempting to fix that mess. I finished the last drop of my beverage before reaching the door and flipping off the switch, leaving after securely locking it. The hallway was quiet, besides the electric current in the overhead lights. It was a certain kind of peace that I could not obtain anywhere besides here. Even home, where it was nothing but solitude, did not have such the stillness the clinic did.

I reared around to the front of the clinic and noticed Leah, a certified nurse and usual receptionist, at the front counter, scribbling in a notebook. She seemed to notice my presence as she peered over, her eyes burning into me.

"Off so soon, doctor?" she asked, lowering her pen as she crossed her arms. "How about staying until close sometime instead of, I don't know, leaving whenever you see fit?" Leah raised her brow, smirking as though she made a comment that actually insulted me.

"If I had to stay here a second more, I might die," I responded, leaning against the counter. "Maybe I would stay longer if I wasn't stuck with you."

"Very clever, Collard," she congratulated, peering in my eyes. "Whatever would we do without you?"

"Probably fail miserably." I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out the money Mrs. Johnson had forced upon me and laid them on the desk. "Will you add this to the Johnson fund please?"

"She did it again?" Leah slid the money to her and examined it. "This is two-hundred and thirty today."

"Just see to it she gets it back," I ordered, sighing. "I'm not going to accept that woman's unwanted and unneeded charity."

"That's just it," she exclaimed, nearly hopping out of her seat, her straight brown hair sliding from her shoulder. "That's why you always act this way."

"What is?" I asked skeptically.

"You use this rough persona as a defense, don't you? You're not actually as bad as you try to convince others."

"What crap are you trying to believe?"

"You're actually a nice guy, aren't you, Logan? You don't need to act like a jerk, you know."

"You're crazy," I blankly stated. "I never said I couldn't be nice," I muttered in a hushed whisper. I loudly planted my mug on her desk and smiled coolly. "Be a doll and take care of this for me, will ya?"

"Huh?" She took one look at the empty cup and made an intolerant face. "Why do you have to act like such an ass, Logan?" I turned away from her without another word and strode to the front exit with my hands in my coat pockets. "You're easy to read, you know," she called after, her blood boiling. "There's no point in hiding!" I paused only for a second before gripping the door's handle and making my way to freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, here's the second chapter.

Thank you, MightyQuill, for the review and to the favorites and follows.

The story will pick up. I originally started this with the intent of making it the size of a book. I also promise, more EarthBound content will be coming sooner than later.  
>Please let me know what you think. I appreciate it!<p>

The next day, I was once again stuck behind the desk; I strummed my fingers on what cleared part was left, hopelessly bored. The paperwork I was looking over was directly in front of me, but my eyes merely scanned the words; it was safe to say it was not a piece of literature I could find myself captivated with.

Releasing a slow yawn, I sleepily gazed over at the clock: 2:54 PM. The cup on my desk was already empty and I would have to have May refill it when I came back from my break. I stood up and pulled down the bunched up shirt under my coat and slowly walked to the front of the building. I kept my head lowered, avoiding all possible contact with people for the time being; they knew what time it was and they were smart enough not to pester me during my time.

However, when I finally opened those glass doors, I nearly regretted it when I was hit with a cold slap of air.

"Should have worn something warmer," I breathed to myself, tucking my head to my chest. Under my lab coat, the only thing I wore was a tight, gray short-sleeve shirt and it was no match for this weather. I peered out into the street, gazing at what the season had brought. The trees around the clinic had seemed to change colors just over night; they were ranging from red to orange, some already crispy brown. The leaves scattered across the street, nearly blocking all sight of the cement road.

"Logan!"

I turned and saw Trevor already at our usual meeting place. He had a large pink box, wrapped securely with string, in his hands that bore the bakery's logo. However, his knuckles looked bare white as he clutched the box a bit too tightly.

"Hey, kid," I greeted, smiling as I turned to him. "It isn't like you to be here already, considering it's not even three yet. You hardly make it here with time to spare. What's the deal?"

"I just thought it would be a nice change, you know?" he responded, looking as gleeful as ever.

"Well, now I don't get the thrill of seeing you run over here and fall flat on your face today."

"Is that the only reason you stand out here every day? To watch me trip?" He looked a tad offended, so I shook my head.

"Nah, but it's entertaining nonetheless."

"Well, don't worry," he smiled, shifting the box's string to his left hand and sticking his other in the coordinating pocket; the cube dangled from his hand. "I'm sure I'll still make a fool of myself yet."

"That's the Trevor I know!" I exclaimed, grinning teasingly. The wind blew abruptly, causing a severe feeling of discomfort. His long golden hair swayed with the wind, but he did not seem to notice the cold.

"Hey, Logan?"

"What?" Glancing at my friend, I saw he had his eyes narrowed toward the ground, his expression peculiar.

"Will-will you do me a favor?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what? What it is?" he asked.

"Well, yeah, but it also depends on what's in that box there," I replied, pointing at the pink box.

"You always cut right to the chase, don't you?" he asked with a grin. "You sure you don't just like me for the food?"

"Little bit of both," I teased. However, he got serious again, thinking back to the question at hand.

"Well, I managed to get Dad to let me have Friday off," he explained, his voice becoming frailer. "Because I wanted to do something then…" I could hardly hear his next sentence as his voice faded into nothing.

"Aw, are you asking me on a date?"

"No, of course not!" he cried, taking a step back.

"Oh, chill," I snorted, reaching in my pocket for a pack of smokes. "I was kidding."

"I know, but…" His voice went blank again and squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling deeply. "I do want to ask May out for a date Friday." He looked relieved when he was finally able to get the words out.

"I'm not asking for you," I laid down flatly.

"That's not what I was going to ask!" He was defensive, but he had a courage that was a rare exception for him.

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I just need you to give her Friday off," the boy explained. "Do that and I can ask her myself."

"I don't know…" I said slowly, pretending to ponder. My hand found the carton, but I just seized it in my palm. "Friday is a busy day…"

"Please, Logan?" Trevor was desperate, so I shrugged my shoulders and gave a small nod.

"Fine, I'll do it," I agreed with a quick smile that soon turned into a frown. "But are you going to have the guts to actually ask?"

His face turned a chalky white, "Yeah, I think so," he muttered; he was beginning to absorb what his plan actually entailed.

"You _think_ so?"

"I know so." He seemed confident enough and it felt good to watch. "I got this."

"Those better be worth it," I remarked, looking back at the bakery goods.

"Oh, they definitely are!" Exclaimed the boy proudly, looking down at the box. "I made a lot of these by myself, but they're top-shelf goods."

"I'm interested."

"Filled with chocolate éclairs, apple crumb, croissants, a few cinnamon buns, and I threw in two bear claws and a slice of freshly baked banana nut bread for you, too." My mouth watered more and more with each item he listed off.

"That's a noble selection."

"I hope it's up to par. I did try my best; I have no regrets." He looked a little nervous and I could tell he was not the most confident in his baking skills, though that did not come as a surprise; the only one to ever judge his cooking was his pig-headed father.

"I'm sure they'll be great," I spoke smoothly, nodding my head in approval. "Everyone will love them, as always."

"Good, I hope you guys do." He smiled, but his aqua eyes flashed in fear.

I said nothing about it and pulled out my cigarettes. With a flick of my wrist, I smacked the bottom of the carton a few times before pulling out a stick. I also grabbed the lighter I had tucked in the small box and lit the tobacco.

"That's what I needed," I muttered after taking the first drag.

"What kind of doctor smokes?" Trevor questioned, eyeing me. "Doesn't that set a bad example?"

"And who the hell would be dumb enough to learn from me?" I watched as the ashes fell to the ground and disappear in the leaves.

"You're missing my point."

"Which is?" I felt uncomfortable talking about my habits, but he felt necessary to bring it up often.

"They call them cancer sticks for a reason."

"Who calls them that?"

"That's not important. It's just not healthy. Don't you care about your well-being?"

"Not particularly. It's better than drugs," I argued, taking another inhale, and then exhaling the smoke slowly. "Or drinking."

"You may not care, but some people do!" he cried loudly. I could see how upset he was getting, so I took one more drag before pulling the cigarette from my mouth and extinguishing it on the clinic wall.

"There," I said promptly, letting the half-used butt fall to the ground. "Now everyone's happy."

"I'll take what I can get." He glanced down again and smiled. "Thank you."

"Just shut up, 'kay?" I glanced down and immediately regretted tossing it.

"How did things go with that old woman yesterday?" Trevor asked, picking up on my vibe and respecting my wishes by changing the subject.

"Just as I expected," I answered with a low sigh.

"Fun, huh?"

"Loads. She tried to give me a t-," I started, only to be cut off by a massive roar from down the street.

"Where the hell is he?" The road seemed to shake with each word spoken. "Trevor!" An older man, probably in his late forties or so, with a built stature and a tall figure, stood at the end of the road. The red in his face was visible from over fifty feet away.

"What'd you do?" I asked my friend, who was shaking in fear. Even tiny goose bumps sprouted on his arm.

"I'll explain it later," he promised in a hushed tone. "Though it's not worth worrying about."

"Trevor." He didn't respond, but shoved the pink box's string into my hand. He started sprinting down the street toward his father.

"Sorry, Logan," he called to me, only audible enough for me to hear. His dad watched as his son approached with eyes filled with hatred. As soon as Trevor reached his father, the audible howls began and echoed throughout the town of Threed. The young boy glued his eyes to the ground as his father screamed his ear off; I could even see the spit flying.

I knew Trevor had only been eager to rush to his kin so I would not have to be involved. It was hard to see the boy be hollered at and I knew too well what would soon come after. However, I knew my friend would be upset if I spoke up and it would probably only make matters worse.

Once he was finished, the man sent his son back home and he plowed toward me, much to Trevor's dismay. He looked back at me with apologetic eyes and mouthed the word, "sorry," before disappearing into the bakery. I braced myself for the worst and clamped my mouth shut as his old man approached.

"Dave," I greeted in monotone, glaring at him spitefully.

"Collard," he boomed, a vein near the top of his head still bulging from anger. "Can I have a word with you?"

"What is it?" I asked coldly, crossing my arms.

"M'boy's been acting up lately and not listening a peep to what I tell him," he stated, focusing his best to control his rage. "Sneaks out constantly, making off with merchandise…"

"You know full well he pays for each thing, too," I interrupted, unable to listen to what the fool said.

"I knew it," Dave growled, his bulgy hands curling into white-knuckled fists. "You're the ingrate that encourages this behavior!"

"I'm not making him do anything worth punishing, if that's what you mean." We stood eye to eye and I could see the tiny volcano erupting inside him. I knew he wanted more than anything to sock me right in the face.

"I won't take that behavior anymore, Collard."

"Is that a threat?" I challenged, pressing in closer.

"Could be," he shot right back, somehow making himself appear to be even taller.

"Your son isn't a bad kid, Dave. He's just trying to live his goddamn life," I hissed, somehow able to control my volume.

"Not if I can help it." He fought right back, smirking in delight. He believed he was powerful, invincible even. However, I just could not let him go on believing that.

"He's not a minor anymore, y'know," I sneered, my anger getting the best of me. "He can leave whenever he wants. You don't own him!"

"We'll see about that!" he burst, turning and storming away. He turned around however with a malicious grin on his face. "You enjoy those goods, Collard," he spoke with an edge to his words. "They'll be the last ones you'll ever get." The brute laughed to himself as he walked away, but I could only watch him leave. With nothing left to do outside, I walked back to the clinic, cursing bitterly to myself until I reached my office. When I reached the destination, I slammed the door loudly behind me, though I was unaware of the force at the time. I nearly plowed into my desk, blinded by rage. Without thinking, I tossed the box onto the desk, knocking piles of papers to the floor. Raising a tight fist, it slammed right into the wooden surface, shaking the entire piece of furniture.

It angered me I could do nothing to stop Trevor from being hurt. I knew the problem would not go away until he finally stood up to his old man, but his heart always got the best of him. He had too kindred of a soul to ever speak ill of anyone, especially his own flesh and blood. I worried about his well-being, now that Dave had gotten riled up. If I did a thing, it would upset Trevor to no end. I could do nothing but watch from the sidelines.

I collapsed in my chair, not caring that some of the papers fell on it before sitting down. My head clunked against the desk as I laid it down, closing my eyes. While a majority of people disliked the hospital atmosphere, I found it to be a personal serenity; it was the closest thing to home I could get. While I tried to find peace, I did not hear May come in.

"You alright?" she asked quietly, leaning on the side of the desk. I peered at her while cocking my neck and gave a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Fine isn't a feeling, Logan," she stated, leaning toward me. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Not really," I said honestly, raising my head up with a groan. I quickly felt the throbbing pain with smacking my skull into the wooden surface. "A refill would be nice, though." Quickly glancing from the empty cup back to her, I smiled.

"Of course," she accommodated, chipper as usual. She nodded, grabbing the mug and skipped toward the door.

"What beans are you using?"

"Guatemalan."

"Great, can you bring me it with two creams, one sugar, and bring a napkin or two?"

"Right away!" She disappeared out the door, her footsteps fading in the distance. With another long sigh, I stood up and moved the papers I had been keeping warm with my backside. The entire place looked as though it had just been ransacked, though that was far from the case; yet, I just could not bring myself to fix the mess, especially not today. I kicked the documents under my feet to the side and finished just as May came back, a steaming hot cup of java in her hands.

"Here you are," she smiled, placing it down on the desk, right where the permanent coffee ring was. "Just as the doctor ordered."

"Thanks," I grunted, taking in the engaging aroma.

"Oh, and these." She handed the napkins directly to me and I immediately brought attention to the pale box, quickly untying it. "Oh, what are those?"

"Trevor brought them. They're fancy doughnuts." With a single tug, the knot in the string came undone easily, and I was able to reveal what delicacies the cube held.

"I don't even think those qualify as doughnuts," she muttered as I opened the box's flap.

"Take what you want and then give it to the rest of the staff," I ordered, using one of the napkins to grab the goods I wanted; two bear claws and the piece of bread. I handed her the other napkin back while I licked my thumb. "This one is for you."

"Thank you so much, Logan!" she exclaimed, eyeing a cinnamon bun. "I'll pass these out right away."

"Thanks." She carefully grabbed the opened box and headed out the room. My lips formed into an 'O' as I blew on the steaming liquid, cooling it down just enough to where I could drink it. The taste was fairly bitter, but delicately smooth. The bear claw would complement it well.

I tore a small portion off one of the pastries, leaving the bread for later. My fingers were sticky the instant I touched it, but it was a very small price to pay. I dunked the tip of it in the dark brew for a few seconds before pulling it out and plunging it right into my mouth; the almond flavor with the rich Guatemalan blend was an absolutely splendid combination.

"The deed is done," announced May as she walked back in, clutching her napkin-wrapped cinnamon bun in her hand. "And everybody loved today's treat!"

"Good to hear," I replied, licking the flavored coating from my lips. "But all appreciation should go to Trevor, not me."

"We should know better than to think you'd do something so considerate," she teased, nibbling her treat.

"Right, and don't forget it, either."

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, eating away at the pastries. May sat on the corner of my desk, kicking her long legs back and forth while taking rabbit-sized bites from the bun. I sipped at my beverage slowly, taking in the quiet time.

"So, where did Trevor run off to in such a hurry today?" May asked without shifting her gaze. "He usually sticks around for a while."

"His dad came to fetch him," I nearly whispered, concentrating on suppressing my anger. "Treats his son like a dog."

"Oh, you mean David, right?" She pondered, crossing her slender legs.

"Yeah, that asshole." I could feel the fury rising, so I tried to drown it with the coffee.

"So, Trevor and his dad aren't on good terms, then?"

"I wouldn't phrase it like that," I sighed, putting the mug down and focusing on my co-worker. "His dad doesn't give two cents about him and exaggerates the idea of disciplining with a firm hand by taking it literally." I gnawed the side of my gum as she lowered her eyes in distress over the situation of an innocent friend.

"Well, why doesn't Trevor retaliate, then?" May asked, a little more worked up than necessary.

"You know him; he has a heart of gold." I could not help but to smile thinking about his clumsy self. "He's been that way since the day I met him."

"When was that?" May had her full attention on me, her food laid on one of the many stacks on my desk. She mindlessly twirled one of her golden locks around her finger.

"I don't know; I guess two to three years ago," I said, unsure of the correct time. I inhaled and contemplated the past events. "I moved here about five years ago, remember? I told you that story before."

"I recall hearing it, but the details are a little hazy," she admitted with an embarrassed smile. Her eyes narrowed and looked a little depressed.

"I moved here from Fourside five years ago, wanting to get away from the big city life," I explained, looking down at my reflection in the cup. "My co-workers mocked me for wanting to be a doctor in a small town like this, what with all my training and skill."

"Yeah, I remember that part."

"I desperately wanted to get away from there and I could do whatever I wanted for those wherever I lived." I was lost in thought and forgot May was in the room with me. "Reputation nor money mattered to me. I just wanted to help people, plain and simple."

"Do you still?" I nearly jumped, realizing I was not alone. "Want to help people I mean."

"Without a doubt. It gives me a drive daily," I answered with full confidence, taking a large gulp. From my peripheral, I saw May's lips move as though she were considering something; I decided to ignore it and continue. "However, I didn't fit in easily, being an outsider from the city and all. I was generally alone and focused only on work. The five-minute smoke breaks were all I had, except, back then, they were actually only five minutes."

"You mean it wasn't a half an hour or so?" she gasped, shocked by such surprising news.

"Nope, there was no reason to," I explained, taking a pinch of the bread and letting it melt in my mouth. "During one of those breaks, Trevor happened to be outside during the same time and being the social kind of guy he is, he approached me. He just started talking and we just hit it off." I smiled thinking about his childish nature; innocence was a trait that was hard to come by. "He learned when I took said breaks and we just became friends, simple as that."

"That wasn't as exciting as I was expecting," May laughed as I finally finished, her attention shifting back to the cinnamon bun.

"Sorry it wasn't an epic tale." I took another piece of the bread, feeling how soft it was with my tongue. Amongst the sweet banana flavor, the pleasure of moist and crunchy textures was also pleasing.

"I don't have that high of expectations; it just needs a little sprucing up, is all," she grinned, uncrossing her legs to stand. She put her dessert down and stood up, arching her back in a stretch.

"Yeah, I'll try to spice it up next time around," I muttered sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Good." She smiled, wiping her hands on her black dress pants. She walked around my office, eyeing my mess peculiarly; her heels clicked loudly with each step that she took. "When are you going to get around to cleaning this?"

"If it was my choice, probably never," I snickered, refusing to look at the wreckage. "But flu season is here, so I guess I should get my stuff together pretty soon, huh?"

"You think flu season is already here?"

"Yep. When Green was in yesterday, he had all the symptoms."

"Really?" She seemed surprised, but slightly disappointed as well. "I wasn't expecting it so soon."

"Yeah." I gulped the last of the warm liquid and planted the empty cup on the desk slightly harder than necessary. I shook my head, ruffling my hair in the process. "Do I have any more appointments today?"

"Nope, nothing more scheduled for today," she replied, watching me with interest.

"Then I'm going to head home." I sniffed and stood up, walking toward the door.

"Again? Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked, glancing between me and my desk. "Don't you think now would be ideal to take care of that blizzard?"

"I'll take care of it later," I promised, walking toward the door. I paused when I reached the frame, glancing back at her. "By the way, I'm giving you Friday off."

"What?" she cried out in surprise, worried even. "Why?"

"You're not in trouble or anything. I'm just giving you a day off for once," I explained, turning my head to grin to myself. "I don't know. Go on a date or something. Lock up after you leave, 'kay?"

"Logan, wait-," she cried aloud, but I left before she could say another word. Honestly, I was pretty proud of myself for being able to slide in my promise to Trevor so coolly. It was difficult, but I managed to dart through the clinic without being spotted, as I had hoped. As soon as I stepped outside, the discomfort returned, so I buried my hands deep into my pockets, quickly trying to escape the cold. I would have to remember to wear something warmer the next day.

My house was not terribly far from work and it was typically an enjoyable walk, when dressed appropriately. At that moment, the old car I had tucked in the garage sounded luxurious. However, I was not one to complain about my own mistakes. Instead, I marched forward and embraced the cold, tucking my head lower every so often when a cool breeze swept me by.

The trees lined up in all sorts of random colors and I had to admit it was quite a site. Yet, I felt a lingering feeling in the pit of my stomach that something so breath-taking could only be trouble, and I was right. Every year we saw the beauty and every year, we watched the planet die; the following year, we seemed to forget all about winter and become mesmerized with autumn's false beauty again. It was a never-ending cycle.

The road and sidewalk were decorated with a splash of color as the leaves had made their new home there. I kicked piles of them up as I plowed right through them and the wind took them away. My walk took me past Threed's biggest and only attraction: the big tent circus. Large flags, advertising the grand show, surrounded it and whipped back and forth in the wind. In all the time I had lived in the town, it never once crossed my mind to check out the show and that still reigned true. A large circle of trees surrounded the tent, each leaf splashed with a luminating scarlet. It almost appeared as though it were a ring of scorching flames, reaching high into the clouds.

I looked away and kept my head down, focusing on the walk home. The crisp air was almost painful to inhale. The tops of my hands had turned red, burning from the cold. It was a relief to see my tiny, little one bedroom home, hidden within the shadows of surrounding oaks; it was barely visible to the wandering eye and that was the way I preferred it. Much to my dismay, I had to give up on the idea of raking, because every time I attempted to do so, the next morning would bring a greater haul. Leaves were just something I would have to deal with.

Shifting my right hand to my pants pocket, I quickly retrieved the key to the house and made quick work to spare myself from the cold. While the warm air was a nice change, the musty odor that came with it was a bit of a turn off. I took one last quick inhale of the fresh outdoors before stepping in the old house and closing the door tightly behind me. Bolting the door shut, I wearily strode to the small kitchen in the back of the house, looking for something to fill my stomach. The small counter space I had was occupied with an old, but functional, microwave and a new top-brand coffee maker. A few utensils and plates made a home in the kitchen sink. The fridge had been included with the house five years ago when I had bought it; while it was now a strong tan color, it still retained white marks from its youth. I had decorated the top with a fine assortment of empty liquor bottles, ranging in age, brand, and size. I yawned as I opened the fridge to inspect for food, but no matter how much I would check, no new food magically appeared in it. One carton of eggs that was missing a few, a half bag of sharp shredded cheese, a plastic container of blue macaroni, questionably edible milk, three slices of bread, a variety of opened condiments, and a stale bottle of wine that had been tucked at the bottom shelf for nearly three years was all that I had to choose from.

"Eggs again," I sighed, pulling out the necessary ingredients. I slipped out of the white coat, I tossed it idly onto the worn sofa in the other room. I went back in the kitchen and turned the dial counter-clockwise on the gas stove and made sure the flame ignited before sliding the frying pan on the burner. Old grease, from the night before, still clung to the ridge, so I reached up in the cupboard and retrieved the vegetable oil to spruce up the pan. A few seconds later, the liquid was crackling from the fire's heat, but I was already cracking the first egg and opened it over the pan; it sizzled upon impact. Quickly, I did the same with the second and last egg, watching as the yolk broke as soon as it hit the metal. I discarded the shells in the trash can across the room and turned on the kitchen sink. With a dab of dish soap and a thorough scrubbing, I rinsed my hands clean to avoid salmonella and turned off the water by pushing my elbow against the faucet. The oil splattered across the room. I strode back to the stove and grabbed the thick plastic spatula from the counter, quickly flipping the eggs to reveal the bottoms were crisp and golden. I abandoned the utensil on the counter for a bit, untwisting the wheat bread and decorating a slice with a generous helping of the shredded cheddar and putting it on a paper plate. Picking up the cooking instrument, I scooped up one egg and carefully placed it on top of the cheese-covered piece, then again with the other. I watched the flame disappear as I turned the dial the opposite direction, placing the spatula in the frying pan and moving it to a different burner.

I grabbed the catsup and smacked my wrist on the bottom of the plastic bottle while holding it upside down. It made a plop sound as it hit the lid. I opened it and made a distinct zigzag pattern on the plain slice of bread. I closed the lid to the condiment, sealed the bag of cheese shut, and twirled the bag of the bread and tossed the ingredients in the fridge. I closed the door and put the two pieces of bread together, completing the sandwich.

Cupping the bottom of the plate with my left hand and balancing it with the right; I made my way to the living room and carefully plopped myself on the couch, staring eagerly at my five-star meal. I kicked the small coffee table closer to me and placed the food on its surface. Sniffing, my fingers dug into the soft bread, feeling the warmth of the egg and the moisture of the catsup seeping through to my fingers. I clamped my teeth right into the middle of the sandwich, nearly dropping it as gooey yolk escaped one of the whites and burned my lip.

"Crap," I muttered while chewing the oversized bite, placing my dinner back down on the plate and licking the yellow off the corner of my mouth. Taking a minute, I gazed around my house, finding nothing of particular interest. The rooms were nearly barren, containing only the necessities and lacking anything that made the house a "home." There were no pictures on display, decorations, or even a television, just basic furniture for essential needs. It was practically just a place to eat, sleep, and escape from the outside world.

I snapped back to and the grabbed the sandwich, quickly shoving it down within a few large bites. When finished, I wiped the crumbs from my face and went back to the kitchen to throw away the plate. My hands were covered in a mixture of catsup and egg yolk, so I turned on the sink valve with my wrist and took time rinsing my hands in the cold water.

I lived here alone. I ate here alone. I sat here alone. I slept here alone. I _was_ alone.

A wave of depression swept over me and it hit hard within just a few seconds. Turning the water off, I wiped my hands dry on my pants and retreated to my room for the evening, the sad truth settling deep within my stomach.

The following afternoon, I was outside on cue, cigarette in hand. I was prepared, wearing a long sleeved sports jersey under a solid black jacket. The weather was slightly warmer, but I was not going to take that chance. My feet were firmly planted on the cement and my back was glued to the clinic wall. I exhaled a puff of smoke, leaning my head back as I gazed at the passing clouds. The breeze was fairly light and carried the scent of wet dirt with it; it was almost peaceful.

I glanced down the street, waiting for my friend to make his grand introduction, as usual. Eventually, the cig burned to its butt, so I tossed it in the grass, glancing over, expecting to see him. Forty-five minutes later, I headed back to work; Trevor never showed.

I was a bit out of sorts, confused by my lonesome break. He had never bailed on me before and after recalling his father's speech, I was worried. All appointments that I had scheduled had been for earlier that day, but I could not bring myself to trek back to the empty house.

I coughed, circling my finger on the rim of my stained mug, peering down at the folder under my elbow. There was a substantial amount of paperwork I had to catch up on and there was no better time to do it than now. I sighed and opened the tan flap, my eyes steadily reading each word. Opening the desk drawer, I pulled out an old pen and scribbled slightly on the corner of the folder until the black ink became visible. My tongue slid across my teeth as I read through the papers, one at a time, making small notes when I saw fit. It seemed like a mindless task and I was not a fan of busy work. Yet, time ticked by and before I knew it, the clock struck six; I also managed to get a significant amount of work done without too much hassle.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, gradually amplifying until my door creaked open. A thin hand shot through the crack and flipped the light switch off before slowly retreating.

"Hey!" I growled loudly, nearly rising to my feet. "I'm still in here." May poked her head through the doorway, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Logan! I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were still here," she explained, opening the door enough to slip in the room, then shut it behind her before taking a step forward.

"Maybe you should check next time."

"I just assumed you had left early," she said, trying to defend her actions, but her words trailed off. "What are you doing?"

"You know, work," I snorted, crossing my arms. "It would help if I could see."

"Oh, sorry!" The nurse quickly flipped the switch back on, the light slightly flickering before it remained lit. She took another step and suspiciously studied me. "You're really working?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I retorted, glancing down to straighten the documents I had completed. "I'm not that bad."

"I never said you were." May smiled proudly, convinced I was telling the truth. "You do work hard."

"Better believe it, too." Grabbing the cup, I tried to take a sip of the java, but made a face when I realized how cold it was.

"So, to what do we owe this honor to have you grace us with your presence this long, Doctor Collard?" she teasingly asked, shaking her bangs from her face.

"Shut it," I sighed, putting my arms on my desk and burying my head in them. "Not in the mood."

"What was that? Your voice is muffled."

I raised my head, glaring, "Not. In. The. Mood," I hissed, greatly emphasizing each individual word. I let my head fall to the side, my prickly cheek resting on my arm. May said nothing, but took a seat across from me and picked tiny little fuzzies off her black pants.

"I didn't see Trevor today," she said softly, keeping her eyes down to her lap.

"That's because he didn't show," I muttered, flaring my nostrils while studying my arm.

"Is that so?" May said nothing more and we sat in silence for a minute.

"Do you know if Leah has gotten any calls from Fourside's hospital regarding flu shots?" I asked with a sigh, putting my head up and facing the nurse.

"I'm not sure. She went home a few minutes ago, but I can find out first thing tomorrow morning."

"Leaving before me, huh? That'll be something I can shove in her face," I whispered to myself, grinning.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," I replied, leaning back in my seat. "I'll talk to her myself. You have the day off tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Her finger rested on her chin, her head full of thought. "Why is that again?"

"Can I not be kind enough to administer some vacation time?" I asked thoughtfully, my lip curled on one side.

"I suppose."  
>"Don't go forgetting about it now." I reached to grab the cup, but stopped, remembering the last taste. "The coffee's cold."<p>

"Do you want some more?"

"When did you make the last pot?"

"A few hours ago, I guess."

"No thanks," I sighed, defeated. "There's no point in making more now."

"You sure? It's really no problem."

"Don't worry about it. I'll make some when I get home." Before she could answer, a light knock came from the door and we both faced it in surprise. "Do you know who it is?" I whispered just quietly enough so she could hear me.

"No idea," she replied, rising to her feet and striding to the door. "Hello?" May asked, cracking the door open a smidgen to see who it was. "Well, hi there! Please, come in." She stepped backwards with a smile, opening the door so the guest could enter.

"Who is it?" I asked, leaning against my desk, curious to see who my visitor was.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," said the figure, stepping inside the room.

"Trevor," I mumbled, a smile crossing my face. I leaned back in the chair, sighing in relief.

"'Sup, Logan?" he greeted, half smiling with his head down. His shaggy hair covered practically all his face.

"Please, take a seat, Trevor," May offered, her arm directing him to the empty seat on the other side of the desk.

"Oh, thanks." He nodded, his face still concealed. Oddly, the boy did not react shyly to May whatsoever.

"What are you doing here, Trev?"

"Oh, um," he hesitated, scanning the room. "I just came to help you out." He quickly paced to my desk and picked up a paper. "May told me you worked in a jungle, but I didn't realize she wasn't over exaggerating."

"It's not that bad," I argued, snorting. "It's just a bit unorganized."

"Well, I'm here to help you, regardless," he insisted, giving me a warm smile.

"And if I didn't want to clean this today?"

"That's just too bad," he declared, placing the paper back, intertwining his fingers together; a loud crack echoed the room as he pressed them back.

"So, what you're saying is, I have no choice in the matter?" I asked, clicking my canine teeth together.

"Pretty much."

With a long sigh, I shrugged while rolling my eyes, "Fine. You win, kid."

"I'll go make a fresh pot, then," May announced with a smile, snatching the cup from my desk. She twirled around and looked at our friend. "How do you like your coffee, Trevor?"

"Any way is fine," he assured, nodding his head repeatedly. "I'm sure it'll be delicious." Finally, the boy was becoming bashful again.

"I'll be back in a jiffy!" May chirped, skipping away happily, humming nonchalantly. The tiny clicks of her heels soon faded in the distance.

"Where shall we start?" Trevor asked, his one exposed eye eagerly scanning the documents; I had just the opposite expression.

"Just start from one end and work to the other," I instructed, licking my lips.

"Yes, sir!" He picked up a large pile on the desk and heaved it across the room, setting it on the floor with ease. I followed his lead and clutched as many papers as I could to my chest and moved to a clear spot on the floor, nearly dropping them.

"When did you get so built, kid?" I complained, as I gently set the mess down.

"I lift heavy stuff all day," he explained, plopping his hind-quarters on the ground and crossing his legs. "What are we organizing these by?"

"Last name. You'll find them on the upper-right corner of the page or at the center bottom."

"Alright." He immediately pulled the first paper off his stack, attempting to find the patient's name.

"Make alphabetical stacks. A's with A's, E's with E's, and so forth."

"'Kay."

"And make sure if you find a patient with more than one paper, you put them together."

"Logan," he started, raising his brow. "I got it."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," I sighed, slowly lowering myself to the ground. "I'm just not used to having assistance."

"Obviously," he laughed, lowering his glance back to the work at hand.

"Here you go, guys!" May announced, stepping into the room with two steaming mugs in her hands. She set one cup right in front of me and set the other beside Trevor, smiling with endearment directed toward him as she did so. "Where do I start?"

"Well, let me see," I paused, placing a hand on my chin. "Take a left out of the office, turn right, then take another left at the end of the hall, and go straight out of the exit."

"What?" May cried, her mouth hanging open, offended. "Why?"

"I'd have to pay you for overtime," I sighed, starting to place papers in their appropriate pile.

"Is this really about money?" she questioned, a tad shocked and appalled. "I will gladly work off the clock without complaint."

"May, it's fine," I sighed, halting for a moment to look into her bright blue eyes. "Just go home, okay? You worked hard this week and we honestly got this." I glanced over at Trevor than back at my nurse. She looked at me and then over at Trevor and sighed with exaggeration.

"Okay," she nodded, frowning in disappointment. "I guess I'll go then." She turned around and walked back to the door slowly, holding her small hands in front of her. Snapping her head back, she looked at me. "Don't forget to lock the door and turn off the lights when you're done and to-,"

"May," I interrupted, raising my brow. "Don't worry. Just go home and catch up on some sleep."

"Alright." The girl continued to the door and slowly edged out of the doorway.

"May?"

"Yes?" she chirped, turning around immediately.

"Don't forget about tomorrow, okay?"

"Oh, alright," she sighed, grabbing the door knob. "Well, good luck and have a good night, guys." She looked at me with sad eyes and glanced back at Trevor with a warm smile. "Have a good night, Trevor."

"You take care of yourself, May," he said, gazing at her lovingly. His eyes sparked with compassion and it was clear, he truly cared for the woman. It felt warm to see. With one more wave, the door clicked shut behind her and the room fell silent. Snapping back to, my friend and I exchanged looks before focusing on the organization process. My eyes wandered on the text, locating each name: Wilson, Henry, Black, Stevenson, Benetti…

"So, did you give her the day off tomorrow?" he asked, placing another page down without looking up at me.

"Yeah, no problem," I replied, continuing.

"Did you tell her why?" He looked up, worried about my answer.

"Of course not," I snorted, glancing back. "I wouldn't want to make things easier for you."

"Oh, good." He muttered in relief.

"So, are you actually gonna have the courage to ask her?" I questioned, doubt in his random bursts of confidence.

"Definitely!" he cried out, still owning up to that assurance. With a spark in his eye, he took only a second to look at me before returning to his work. I followed his lead and continued: Anderson, Rodriguez, Hinderson, another paper for Black, Hampton, Johnson… I shuddered at the sight of the name. "How did you let it get this bad, anyway?" he asked, taking a glance around the office. "I mean, this is just…" He paused, trying to find the respectable way to phrase the end of the sentence. "Crazy," he decided with a grin.

"Dunno," I stated blankly, reaching over to put a page in the "R" pile. "I just didn't ever have the motivation to clean it and still don't."

"Tough luck, bro." He smiled with gleaming eyes. Rolling my eyes, I continued with a neutral attitude. He scanned one of the documents and then the ground. "Do you have an "O" pile over there?"

"Yeah," I replied, reaching out and retrieving the paper, putting it in its corresponding pile. After a few other pages, I paused my hands, contemplating. "So, did you work today?" I asked him, without raising my eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?" His work came to a halt, but he stared intently at the ground.

"I just didn't see you outside today, is all," I muttered, raising my eyes to him.

"Yeah." He became stationary, his skin a magnificent pale; he almost looked like a brilliant marble statue, frozen forever in time.

"Just, 'yeah'?"

"Well," he started, pausing. He took a deep breath and a hard gulp before continuing. "After yesterday, Dad was in one of his moods…" He paused once more, lowering his head even more. "Him and I got into it and it just made it hard to get out today."

"Trevor," I muttered, my mouth slightly dropped; I wanted to reach out to him, but my hand would not budge. My friend slightly lifted his head and smiled sincerely.

"But there's no need to worry; everything's fine," he nearly whispered, a clear droplet falling to the ground; the room stood so silent, I heard the splash. His cheek moved as he flinched in pain. Without a second to think, I lunged at Trevor, knocking down numerous stacks on the way. "H-hey!" Not expecting this action, he only fell back and stopped in surprise. I seized his jaw firmly in my hand and brushed his bangs away from his face with the other. His face cringed as my fingers brushed against the swelling mauve blotch that hung under his right eye. I felt the damp streak that ran down to his chin.

"Dammit," I whispered, lowering my head and falling back to the ground. "God dammit!" I squeezed my scalp and yanked at the roots. "You idiot!" My head snapped back to him, growling.

"Lo-Logan," he muttered, taking only a second to look at me before staring back at the floor.

"Why, Trevor?" I asked hysterically, dropping my hands to my lap. "Why the hell do you keep letting him do this?" My friend said nothing, sitting completely still. His silence angered me and I could not bear it. "You let him do whatever he wants and you do absolutely nothing to stop him! I don't understand why. He goes and beats the crap outta you and you let him!" Noticing a look of hurt crossing his face, I ceased my lips and took a deep breath. "Just, why?"I breathed, shifting my eyes to my shaking hands.

He remained still for a minute before speaking, "He's my dad, the only family I got." He paused another moment. "I'm sure there was a reason."

"Shut up!" I shouted, my torso swinging slightly and knocking down another stack. "Don't get so down on yourself. You did nothing wrong; that man is just a giant ass, okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered, barely nodding his head in agreement.

"Why don't you do something about it? Tell someone!" With another breath, I shook my head. "I just don't understand why you've never called the police or anything."

"Well," he started, pressing his hands together. "I have a reason."

"Oh, this is going to be good." It was only after I said that I realized how snarky I had sounded.

"To Dad, reputation is everything. His name is the only thing that he really cares about." Trevor looked back at me, expecting me to understand what he was talking about; I had no clue.

"So?" Crossing my arm, I cocked my eyebrow. "That's no secret."

"But that's all he cares about!" Trevor exclaimed, his head shooting up. "I think it's sad that is the only thing he cares about; that's all he has going for him." With a small sigh, he shook his head. "He has no friends and lives a miserable life. I can only feel sorry for him." We exchanged a glance to each other and he smiled contently. "I have friends and am still happy. That's something he'll never get to experience again, so I let him have that."

"That doesn't excuse his actions," I stated, trying to sound stern, but still sounding soft. "You can't just let him get away with it."

"I know," he sighed, scratching his head. "I won't let it happen again." Tilting his head slightly to the side, he smiled sincerely.

"Trevor…" I scratched the back of my neck, gazing doubtfully at my friend.

"I promise, Logan," he insisted, flashing his teeth. "Really."

Though not completely convinced, I sighed, "Fine." I took a few seconds before getting up and retreating back to my spot, stepping over the scattered documents. Slowly kneeling down, I began gathering the papers and readjusting the piles. Without saying a word, Trevor went back to work, picking up miscellaneous pages. My eyes scanned over the papers: Baker, Alexander, Cortez…

Lifting the page in the air, I asked, "Do you have a "C" pile?"

A few hours later, we managed to wrap up the organizing and I had begun placing the stacks in the coordinating folders. We had worked in silence, aside from a few coughs here and there. Trevor had stepped out to empty the coffee pot as I finished. The image of his bruise haunted my thoughts; I was conflicted with a mixture of anger and regret. Was I wrong to blame myself for his injury? If so, why did I feel so guilty?

Before I could even consider an answer, I heard a small tap on the door. My body turned and saw Trevor in the doorway, holding two Styrofoam cups.

"Hey," he greeted, smiling as he walked in. He approached the desk and handed me the beverage.

"Thanks," I said, shoving the papers in the filing cabinet behind the desk and taking the cup. Immediately, I eagerly took a sip and regretted it instantly. An overwhelming bitter taste hit at my uvula like a professional boxer to a punching bag. "Ugh! What the hell?" I pulled the questionable liquid from my face and studied it.

"Ah, sorry," Trevor added, grinning as he watched the scene. "It's straight black coffee. I didn't know how you liked it."

"Why didn't you tell me before I drank it?" I inquired, with a little attitude.

"Sorry, I forgot." He burst out laughing, holding his ribs for support. Sniffing, I placed the cup on the desk and grabbed another pile of documents. With ease, I located the proper folder and filed the stack, making my way to another.

"Your memory sure is convenient," I noted sarcastically.

"I seriously forgot," he insisted, taking a sip of his own drink. "And it's not my fault you tried to chug the entire thing in one gulp."

"Yeah, yeah, try to turn the entire thing on me." I grinned, cramming in another stack. Trevor took swigs of his drink periodically, watching as I finished. Out of habit, I nearly took a drink from my cup before realizing.

"Do you need any help finishing up?"

"No, there's just a few more piles I have to put away and we're done."

"Okay, cool." He pressed his waist against the desk and gazed down into his cup. I continued to file.

"So," I started, looking up at him. "When are you going to ask May?"

He took a thoughtful sip before answering, "I was planning on calling her tonight, but…" He glanced at the clock that hung over the door and bit his lip. "I may have to wait until morning."

"And you have her number, right?"

"Yeah, duh."

"Just checking." Putting away the last heap, I closed the cabinet and turned to my friend. "Hey, Trev?"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Thanks for helping me out," I said, slightly shifting my gaze away from him. "I appreciate it."

"It's no biggie," he replied shyly, taking another sip. "I'm just impressed we managed to get through it all." He laughed whole-heartedly, staring up at the ceiling. "And in record time, too!"

"It's amazing," I admitted while nodding. "A major relief."

"So, I'll see you the same time next week?"

"Huh?" My face turned to him, flaring my nostrils. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Logan," Trevor laughed, brushing the hair from his eyes. "This place will be trashed in no time flat."

"It will not be this bad by next week," I retorted, crossing my arms. "That's just unrealistic."

"You're right," he agreed, pursing his lips.

"You know it."

"Same time tomorrow, then!" He grinned smugly.

"Shut up." I punched him with a bit of force in the arm, then lowering my hand to my right pocket.

"That hurt," the boy whined, rubbing his arm tenderly.

"Don't be such a wimp, kid." I rummaged in the pocket and seized my keys in my palm; I started toward the door. "Let's get going."

He sprang to his feet and exclaimed, "Uh, dude? Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Hm, what do you mean?" I turned back toward him and examined the desk, but nothing caught my attention. I shrugged. Sighing, his hand shot out and pointed at the abandoned cup of coffee he had given me. With a single dirty glance at it, I shrugged again.

"Oh, come on," he sighed again, grabbing his own cup. "I made it ready to go and everything."

"I didn't realize pouring coffee in a Styrofoam cup automatically made it transportable." With a hefty sigh, I shook my head. "Just leave it, Trev. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

"That's not the point, man," he said, lifting his drink to his lips and lifting his head back to chug the last of his beverage. Grunting, he reached over the desk and carefully plucked the full cup into his hands.

"Sink's in the other room."

"I ain't gonna dump it. Unlike you, I'm man enough to drink it black," he laughed, taking a slow sip.

"Come on," I instructed, turning back to the door. He followed in my shadow. Once we were out of my office, I leaned in, flipped the light switch, and closed the door. "I'm just picky about my coffee," I muttered, taking out my keys and locking the door.

"Whatever." He took another swig and sniffled.

Our footsteps echoed down the dark ominous hall as we walked. The clinic had a completely different vibe once the sun set and the building emptied. It had been years since I had stayed at work so late. My feet halted as Trevor paused to throw away his empty cup in the trash. We then started back to the door. Seeing the exit in sight, I sorted through my key ring and found the correct match to the lock. When I pushed through the glass door, I almost regretted it when I received a slap of cold air. Grunting, I zipped the sweatshirt under my lab coat and turned to lock the door.

"God, it's cold," I complained, immediately shoving my hands in my pockets as soon as the clinic was locked tight.  
>"Look who's the wimp now," Trevor snickered. I was about to rebut, but I noticed he was only wearing a tee-shirt, featuring his favorite jazz band, and a baggy pair of jeans.<p>

"No, you're just nuts, kid." He beamed in response. Sighing I shifted my legs. "Are you going to be okay to go home?" I asked, glancing into his eye for only a second before shifting my gaze away. "It's late and I don't want him to give you any problems."  
>"Yeah, it should be fine," he assured, his smile somewhat falling.<p>

"If there's an issue, you can always come over to my place, okay?"

"I know," he whispered, nodding his head.

"I mean it. It would be no bother for me."

"I know, Logan." He raised his head and met my eye again. "Thanks."

We stood there for a minute longer, watching as a car sped down a few streets away, its tires squealing loudly in the silent night.

"Alright," I yawned, shivering as a passing breeze swept by. "I'm going now."

"Okay." He took another sip of the bitter coffee and I laughed.

"Oh, and have fun staying up all night. I hope you didn't want any sleep."

"I probably wouldn't have gotten much anyway," he admitted, a disgruntled look on his face.

"Nervous about tomorrow?"

"That's the understatement of the century." Chuckling, I shook my head.

"You'll do fine, Trev. Just don't act desperate."

"Wow, the advice of the century, too? You're on your way to winning the Nobel Peace Prize." My friend smiled wittingly.

I laughed, "Alright. I'll see you later, Trevor."

"Later." I smiled in return and turned around, walking in the opposite direction of his. I had an urge to turn around and make sure he got home safe, but I decided against it. Immediately, I regretted that choice, however, it was against my nature to be too involved. In hindsight, it may have been my greatest flaw.

Bits and pieces of the past few hours played like a broken record through my head; a concoction of mixed emotions brewed in a cauldron I called my mind. My hatred for Trevor's father has been present since the day I met the wretched man. When I had the unfortunate experience to run into him at the clinic, he did not even try to put on the false front he did with others; rather, he threw a fit about an outsider taking up an important job and insisted I was not qualified before storming out. He never came back to the clinic since and forbade his son to receive medical care from the facility as well. Dave and I had been at each other's throats ever since. Just thinking about the idiot made my blood boil and suddenly, it did not seem so cold anymore.  
>As I walked down the desolate street, clear-as-day images bombarded my vision: his black eye, his tears, and his unconcealed fear…<br>I halted and kicked the ground furiously, my jaw clamp shut with peculiar growls escaping from my throat. My hands curled into fists and my knuckles turned whiter than snow as they trembled uncontrollably. If I had the option to go back, to fix the past, I would. Yet, the monstrosity known as David Wright took his family for granted. The thought sent me in an uproar.  
>Memories swirled into a blinded blend of anger and pure hatred, until a single one stuck out from the rest. It was a vision so clear, I nearly blacked out.<p>

_"__He's just trying to live his goddamn life."_

_"__Not if I can help it."_

A heavy realization swept over me as I recalled the previous day's conversation. It had been I who had challenged Dave and he had made sure I would regret it; I did. Had I really only made matters worse for Trevor? Was this the first time or had I always been the one to blame? I was in a trance, absolutely traumatized. It had been my fault he had been injured; I was responsible.  
>I stood on the side of the road, completely blinded as memories filled my head. My hands shook violently and I felt sick to my stomach. While I was frozen in a daze, I was mute to the blaring horn before me. The intense headlines that engulfed me went unnoticed.<p>

"Hey, you!"

I could not blame Dave for this. It was my own fault.

"Hey, get out of the road!"

Would it be best to separate myself from him?

"You okay, guy?"

Was someone talking to me? My eyes focused and saw the reality outside of my mind, only to be physically blinded instead. Slowly, my vision adjusted and made out a large truck with blaring headlights. A male figure hung out the driver's side window, though the face was unrecognizable.

"Dude, are you alright?" he called, leaning out a bit more. Taking a few seconds longer, I blinked numerous times. I hesitantly took a step back, unsure how to react. "Doctor Collard, is that you?"

Upon hearing my name, I fully snapped back to, shaking my head as I responded, "N-no. Sorry." I hung my head down and quickly walked past the car, making sure I went past the passenger's side window to avoid the driver at all costs. He tried to call out again, but I swiftly maneuvered home, embarrassed. When I finally got home, I was exhausted both mentally and physically. I skipped dinner and retreated to bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a deathly slumber.


End file.
